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A I) DRESS 



DELIVERED BEFORE THE 



PEITHESSOPHIAN AND PHILOCLEAN SOCIETIES 



RUTGERS COLLEGE, 



LITERARY CHARACTER 01 THE SCRIPTURES; 



DELIVERED AND PUBLISHED BY REQUEST OF THE PEITHESSOPHIAN SOCIETY. 



BY ALEXANDER H. EVERETT. 



NEW- YORK : 

PRINTED BY JARED W. BELL, 17 ANN-STREET. 



MDCGCXXXVIir. 






4- 



a 






CORRESPONDENCE, 



Peithessophian Hall, Rutgers College, | 
July 17th, 1838. 

Hon. A. H. Everett, 

Sir— At a meeting of the Peithessophian Society, held in their Hall, 
immediately after the delivery of your address, this day. It was unani- 
mously resolved, 

u That the thanks of this Society be presented to the Hon. Alexander H. 
Everett, for his able, eloquent, and impressive address, this day delivered, 
and that a copy of the same be requested for publication." 

We were appointed a Committee, under the above resolution, to convey 

to you the enclosed resolution of thanks. Permit us to hope that you will 

accede to the general wish of the honorary, graduate, and regular members 

of our Society, and permit the same to be given to the public, as we believe 

its operation and effect^ when published, will be beneficial and useful to the 

community at large. 

Very Respectfully, your obedient servants, 

JOHN S. CANNON, ) 

WILLIAM H, LACY, £ Committee. 

THEODORE F. WYCKOFF, > 



New Brunswick, N. J. July 18th, 1838. 
Gentlemen, 

I have received your letter of yesterday, and beg you to accept my best 
thanks for the very friendly terms in which you are pleased to notice the ad- 
dress. 

I am too well aware how entirely inadequate a hasty essay of this kind 
must be to a subject of such importance, and should rather prefer that it might 
not be published : but if the Society think that the publication would be in 
any way advantageous to the cause which we all wish to promote, I shall 
not feel myself at liberty to decline their request. 

With great respect, I am gentlemen, 

Your friend and obedient servant, 

A. H. EVERETT. 

Messrs. JOHN S. CANNON, ) 

WILLIAM H, LACY, > Committee. 

THEODORE F. WYCKOFF, > 



ADDRESS. 



Gentlemen of the Societies, 

The occasion which has called us together, and which, by your 
appointment, has devolved upon me the agreeable, though arduous 
task of addressing you, is one of a deeply interesting character. 
For those of you who are more immediately concerned in the cere- 
monies of the day, it marks the dividing line between the walks of 
studious and active life. Thus far you have pursued your course 
under the eye of affectionate and careful friends, — of tender parents, 
or watchful guardians and tutors. Their experience and love 
have supplied the want of the mature judgment, which your youth 
denied you, and have brought you safely, through many perils, to 
the portals of the great theatre of the world. To-day you pass the 
threshold. No longer looking up to others with implicit faith as 
the guides of your course, and as mainly responsible for itr direc- 
tion towards good or evil, you are now to go forward as independ- 
ent, self-directed, self-sustaining men, — to discharge the dutiea, — 
to encounter the labours and perils, — and to reap the rewards and 
honours which may have been reserved for you. Like some gal- 
lant ship, bound for distant regions, and freighted with a rich 
cargo, which the care of her owners has provided with all the 
necessary stores, and safely towed out of harbour, you this day 
spread your canvass to the breeze, and launch out boldly upon the 
broad ocean of life. 

But though you are now to go forth and pursue your course as 
independent, responsible men, you go not forth alone. The friends, 
whose care and kindness watched over your earlier years, are still 



to accompany and aid you as counsellors. They are now assem- 
bled to witness, with affectionate and eager interest, your departure 
from the retreats of preparatory study, and to welcome you to the 
open field of manly exertion. They are to co-operate with you in 
its toils, — to sustain you, as far as may be, in its perils, — to sym- 
pathize with you in good and in evil fortune. As you advance 
in life, new relations of a dearer and tenderer kind than any that 
you have yet. formed await you. A home of your own creation, — 
the true temple of happiness and virtue, — will receive you into its 
charmed circle, and bind you with new and delightful ties to your 
brother men. It is also your fortune to have your birth in a land of 
equal laws, and of wise and well-administered political institutions. 
Your country spreads over you her broad protecting shield, to guard 
you from all injustice or oppression at home or abroad; secures to 
you unimpaired the fruits of your industry ; lays open to your enter- 
prize, unfettered by monopoly or privilege, every branch of useful 
and honourable labour, and holds out to your noble ambition her 
highest places of trust and honour as the rewards of zealous and 
successful exertion in her service. In a still more elevated sphere, 
the All-Seeing Eye watches over you with a love surpassing that 
of friends, parents, or protectors, and will make all changes and 
chances work together for good for those who love him and keep 
his commandments. 

It is, therefore, under happiest auspices, gentlemen and friends, 
that you this day go forth from the shades of academic retirement 
to the walks of busy life. You go forth, as well you may, with fresh 
and buoyant spirits. You look forward with hope and confidence 
to the future. To the eye of ingenuous youth the world appears 
in prospect like some enchanted landscape of perennial verdure, 
adorned with fairest roses, and glittering with the fresh dews of 
the morning. 

" Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, 
While proudly riding o'er the azure realm, 

In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes, 

Youth at the prow, and Pleasure at the helm." 

For you, gentlemen, may no clouds overspread this bright pro- 



spect! May no disappointment blast the promise of so fresh a 
spring ! May the highest hopes and wishes of your friends be 
more than realized in your future course ! May your country here- 
after register your names among those of her worthy and well- 
beloved children ! And may the Great Being, in whose hands are 
the issues of all events, receive you, on the final day of account, to 
the rewards of good and faithful servants ! 

In executing the task which you have assigned me, I would 
gladly say something to enforce upon your minds the motives to 
upright and honourable conduct that result from the various con- 
siderations to which I have now alluded. Of these motives, the 
highest, the purest, and, if duly weighed, the most effective and 
powerful are those which are founded in religion. When we view 
the mind, not as a mere ephemeral form of matter, but as a sub- 
stantial intelligence, — kindred in some sense, as we are permitted 
to say, to the High and Holy One that inhabiteth eternity, — every 
pleasure, care, and duty, presents itself under a new aspect ; the 
ordinary temptations to vice lose their charm ; the passing troubles 
of the world are divested of their sting ; and a celestial day-spring 
illuminates the otherwise dark and dreary chaos of human exist- 
ence. A full exposition of the nature of the religious motives to 
good conduct, would, however, be hardly appropriate to the present 
occasion, and still less so to the studies and pursuits of the present 
speaker. It belongs to the habitual duties of the sacred desk. 
The objects of our meeting are of a literary character, and natu- 
rally suggest for our reflections a theme of the same description. 
In accordance with this suggestion, and with a view, at the same 
time, to the high importance of religious influences on the minds of 
the young, I propose to offer, in the present address, a few remarks 
upon the literary and scientific character of the Scriptures. These 
ancient records that embody for us the religious spirit, which, we 
may hope, is not entirely foreign to other forms of faith, are vene- 
rable and interesting under every point of view. Their most im- 
portant aspect is that under which they are considered as the sym- 
bols and assurances of divine truth ; but regarded merely as literary 
monuments, they are not only the most ancient and curious, but I 
may safely say> the most extraordinary and valuable in the whole 



8 

compass of literature. " Independently of the divine origin of the 
Scriptures," says the accomplished and clear-headed Sir William 
Jones, " I have found in them more true wisdom, — more prac- 
tical good sense, — a warmer benevolence, and a higher strain of 
thought and poetry than I have met with in any other work that I 
have perusedj or indeed all other works put together." In this 
opinion I entirely concur. On a subject so extensive, you will, of 
course, not expect a complete and regular disquisition. I can only 
offer a few imperfect hints, which for the sake of some appearance 
of method, I will arrange under the three heads, into which the 
illustrious Bacon divides the whole field of Learning, Philosophy, 
Poetry, and History. 

1. The Philosophy of thfe Scriptures is at once sublime and 
simple. It satisfies the highest aspirations of the highest minds, 
and it falls within the comprehension of the humblest inquirer, who 
honestly seeks to understand it. It embraces the material universe 
with its glorious and complicated system of 

"» — » planets, suns, and adamantine spheres, 
Wheeling unshaken through the void immense ; " 

the moral world, where the ruling spirits of good and evil carry on 
a perpetual warfare, with alternate, and apparently not unequal 
advantage ; — the great problems that have attracted, exercised, 
and defied the severest study of generation after generation : — it 
embraces them both with unshrinking grasp, and solves them with 
a single word. It carries home the sublime truth to the simple 
heart of the common believer with & clearness of conviction, that 
Socrates and Cicero in their happiest hours of inspiration never 
knew. This word of power that solves these mighty and momen- 
tous problems, — that carries home this cheering conviction to the 
believing heart, — need I say to you, gentlemen, — is God ! 

When from the merely spontaneous exercise of our intellectual 
and physical powers, we first turn the mind inward to reflection 
upon its own nature, and outward to an inquiring contemplation 
of the objects around us, we find ourselves part and parcel of a vast 
system. We ask, with intense curiosity, with agonizing interest, 
" What am I? Whence came I ? What means this glorious pano- 



rama of ocean, air, and earth that I see around me, — these splendid 
orbs that illuminate the day and night, — these lesser lights that 
twinkle and burn around them,— the seasons with their everchang- 
ing round ? Who can tell me the secret of the being and working 
of this wondrous machinery ? Did necessity fix it firmly, as it is, 
from all eternity 1 Has accident thrown it together to remain till 
some other accident shall reduce it to nothing, or did some master- 
workman adapt it, with intelligent design, to some great and good 
end 1 If so, w T hat means this dismal shade of evil that over- 
shadows with its dim eclipse so large a portion of this good and 
fair creation ? What relation do I bear individually to the grand 
whole ] Am I a mere ripple on the boundless ocean of being, 
swelling into life for a moment and then subsiding for ever, or is 
this curiously compacted frame the abode of a substantial, immor- 
tal mind, destined to exist hereafter through countless ages of 
happiness or misery ? " 

The greatest and wisest men of all ages and countries have un- 
dertaken to answer these questions in various ways, but generally 
with slender success. One tells us that the origin of all things is 
in water, another that it is in fire ; a third places it in the earth, 
and a fourth in the air. Epicurus resolves the universe into primi- 
tive atoms, while Zeno fixes it firmly in the brazen bonds of neces- 
sity. In regard to the problem of the moral world opinions are 
equally various. In one system fate is the supreme arbiter, and 
chance in another. Soma acknowledge the existence of gods, but 
place them apart in some remote celestial sphere, where they live 
on regardless of the stir and bustle of this lower world. A few, 
more wise than the rest, obtain some faint glimpse of the truth, of 
which, however, they avow that they feel no certain assurance. 
All is doubt, uncertainty, error. There is no absurdity so great, 
says Cicero, that some distinguished philosopher has not made it 
the basis of his theory. The labours of modern inquirers have not 
been attended with better results. They have terminated in re- 
viving successively, one after anot r, the exploded follies of 
antiquity. One denies the existence of mind, and another that of 
matter, while a third doubts the reality of either. All, — 1 mean all 
whose researches have been conducted independently of Scripture,-- 



10 

deny the reality of moral distinctions, and reduce man to a level 
with the animals around him. Such are the noble and consolatory 
views which the wisdom of Europe proclaimed within our own 
day, through the mouths of her ablest and most judicious apostles, 
as the last results of the labours of all preceding ages upon the 
great problem of God, man, and the universe. 

If we turn to the teachers of the various religions, the scene is, 
if possible, still less agreeable. Stocks and stones, — the beasts of 
the field, and the fowls of the air, — the vilest reptiles, — nay, the 
very vegetable products that serve for daily food, are held up by 
the most learned and civilized nations as objects of reverence and 
arbiters of human fortune. Enlightened Egypt, in her brightest 
days of power, wisdom, and glory, enrolled the beetle and the 
onion on the list of her divinities. The mythology of Hindostan 
is, if possible, still more monstrous. Revolting or childish fables are 
presented as solutions of the great problem of the universe. The 
world reposes on the back of an elephant, and the elephant, again, 
upon a tortoise, which finally rests upon nothing. Even in the 
elegant creations of the brilliant fancy of Greece, we discern little 
more than the sports of infancy playing in wantonness with ideas, 
of the importance of which it is utterly unconscious. In its severer 
moods, the Greek mythology presents the most desolating views 
of the destiny and character of our race. Take, for example, the 
fable of Prometheus : — On the side of a rocky precipice of immea- 
surable height, a human being extends his giant length, writhing 
in agonies of extremest torture. Chains of iron attach him to the 
cliff, while a vulture of enormous size, hovering over him perpetu- 
ally, tears his entrails, which are constantly renewed by the super- 
natural fiat of destiny. This is the Titan Prometheus, as described 
by the gloomy genius of Eschylns. His crime was, that he had 
given life to human figures of clay of his own formation, by touch- 
ing them with fire w T bich he had stolen from heaven. He is in- 
tended as an emblem of humanity. The moral is, that wretch- 
edness is the lot of man, and that superiority of intellect, though 
employed for the most beneficial objects, only dooms its possessor 
to intenser misery. The wayward genius of Byron, who had 
chiefly sought for speculative truth in the sources to which I have 
alluded above was captivated by this heart-rending fable, which he 



11 

seems to have regarded as the vehicle of important truth, and has 
dressed it up in some of his finest poetry. 

" Titan ! to whose immortal eyes 

The sorrows of mortality, 
Seen in their sad reality, 

Were not as things that gods despise : 
What was thy pity's recompense 7 
A suffering, silent, but intense : 
The rock, the vulture, and the chain : 
All that the proud can feel of pain ; 
The agony they do not show, 
The suffocating sense of woe, 
That speaks but in its loneliness, — 

And then is silent, lest the sky 
Should have a listener, nor will sigh 

Unless its voice be echoless." 

All the errors, absurdities, and fables to which I have now allud- 
ed, have been sustained and illustrated in ancient and in modern 
times, with the whole power of the human understanding in its 
most improved condition. Eloquence, logic, learning, and wit, 
have been employed to make the worse appear the better reason, 
until the honest inquirer, who seeks for truth through the mazes 
of these controversies, finds himself completely bewildered and 
hopeless of arriving at any satisfactory result, were there no other 
difficulty to be encountered but the extent of the ground to be gone 
over. To crown the whole, the severest and most celebrated me- 
taphysician of modern times affirms, that the truth cannot, in fact, 
be discovered by the mere use of the understanding in the ordinary 
sense of the term ; and in proof of his assertion furnishes what he 
considers complete and unanswerable demonstrations on both sides, 
of all the great questions that most deeply interest the mind, at the 
head of which is the existence of God. 

From this chaos of controversy, doubt, confusion, imposture, and 
error, we turn to the Scriptures. Here, gentlemen, we find ourselves 
at once in a new atmosphere. The very first sentence removes all 
difficulty. What do I say ? The light breaks upon us before the 
sentence is finished. The first half-sentence settles at once and 
forever, the great problem of the universe. In the beginning 



12 

God. No metaphysics ; no logic ; no rhetoric ; — no tedious indue 
tion from particular facts ; no labored demonstration U priori or ft 
posteriori ; — no] display of learning; no appeal to authority; — but 
just the plain, simple, naked, unsophisticated truth : In the begin 
king God. 

"With the utterance of this little word, an ocean of light and 
splendor bursts at once upon the universe, and penetrates its darkest 
recesses with living beams of hope and joy. Order, harmony, intel- 
ligent design for happiest ends, take the place of unintelligible 
chaos and wild confusion. A cheerful confidence in the wisdom 
and goodness of an All- Wise and Almighty Creator, is substituted 
for gloomy doubt, and blank despair. Evil still remains, but how 
different is its character ! In a universe of chance and fate, it is a 
blind, irresistible power, like the destiny of ancient fable : treading 
under its giant feet with remorseless fury, the fairest flowers of the 
natural and moral creation. " In a godless universe," says Ma- 
dame de Stael, " the fall of a sparrow would be a fit subject for 
endless and inconsolable sorrow." With an Almighty Father at 
the helm, evil, physical and moral, puts on the character of discipline. 
We cannot, it is true, penetrate the necessity of its existence, or the 
nature of the good which it is intended to effect. We are tempted 
at first to exclaim with the eloquent sophist of Geneva, "Benevo- 
lent Being ! where, then, is thy Almighty Power ? I behold evil 
on the earth." But what then 1 Does our limited intelligence 
comprehend the universe ? Can the infant at his mother's breast 
understand why the honied stream is removed from his lips, and a 
bitter draught of medicine substituted for it ] Does the little child 
realize why the kind father confines him in schools, — refuses him 
the indulgences which he thinks so delightful, — inflicts upon him, 
perhaps, a severe punishment for some, to him, unimaginable fault] 
To the child, the lapse of a few years makes all these mysteries 
clear ; in the mean time, his confidence and love for his parents 
induce him to submit with undiminished cheerfulness, where he 
cannot understand. Shall the frail being of a day repose with less 
faith and hope upon the bosom of Omniscient and Omnipotent 
goodness 1 How beautiful is the language, in which a late English 
writer expresses the effect upon the inquiring mind, oppressed with 



13 

doubts and fears, of the introduction of an intelligent principle into 
the theory of the universe. 

"Fore-shadows, — say, rather, fore-splendors,- of that truth, and 
beginning of truths fell mysteriously upon my soul. Sweeter than 
day-spring to the shipwrecked in Nova Zembla ; — ah ! like a moth- 
er's voice to her little child, that strays bewildered, weeping in un- 
known tumults ; -like soft streamings of celestial music to my too 
exasperated heart, came that Evangile :- the universe is not dead 
and demoniacal, — a charnel-house with spectres, but god-like, and 
my Father's." 

In the beginning God. This little phrase, then, gentlemen, 
solves in one word, the problem of the universe. The same strain 
of thought runs through the w hole volume ; but if it ended here, 
the system of speculative wisdom would be perfect. It suffers no 
subtraction : it admits no addition. In the beginning God. 

But knowledge is not every thing. We are not only intelligent, 
but active beings. A complete system of philosophy must include 
the essence of practical, as well as speculative wisdom. Satisfied 
upon the theory of the universe, I turn my views again homeward. 
I seek for a rule of practical conduct. What are my relations to 
the beings around me ? How am I to act? What am I to do] 
Here, too, the schools are given up to inextricable doubt, disputa- 
tion and confusion ; and here again, the Scriptures interpose with 
another masterly solution, in a single word : Love. 

Interrogate the doctors, and you find their answers as various as 
their names. Ail agree in this: that the object in life is happi- 
ness, but how shall 1 attain it 1 Wherein resides this long-sought 
summum bonum : t his far-famed fa'r-and-good, of the Porch and t he 
Academy 1 Zeno stretches the inquirer upon the rack, and endea- 
vors to persuade him that he is happy, by convincing him that pain 
is not an evil. Kpicurus unlocks the blooming gardens of sensual 
indulgence. Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die. '• W onder 
at nothing," says Horace, — " that is the only way by which a man 
can make or keep himself happy." The son of Amnion seeks for 
happiness in the " pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious war," 
and weeps at last, that he has only one world to conquer. The stu- 
dent thinks that he lias found it in his library. " When I am onca 



14 

fairly seated before a fine old parchment," says the disciple in 
Goethe's Faust, — " all Paradise opens before me." But the master 
has already learned that, of making many books, there is no end ; 
and that much study is a weariness of the flesh. And what says the 
sweet songster of Twickenham, — the charming poet of the Essay 
on Man : — he, whose life, according to a brother bard, was an even 
more endearing song than his writings ; and who, if this eulogy 
be true, had a right to judge of that in which he himself ex- 
celled ? Hear him addressing his celebrated " guide, philosopher 
and friend !" 

11 Oh Happiness ! our being's end and aim ; 

Good ! Pleasure ! Ease ! Content ! whate'er thy name ; 

That something still that prompts the eternal sigh. 

For which we bear to live or dare to die ; 

Which still around us yet beyond us lies, — 

Overlooked, — seen double, — by the fool and wise. 

Plant of celestial growth ! if dropped below, 

Say in what mortal soil thou deign'st to grow ! 

Fair opening to some court's propitious sbrine, 

Or deep with diamonds in the flaming mine? 

Twined with the wreaths Parnassian laurels yield, 

Or reaped with iron harvests of the field ? 

Where grows ? Where grows it not ? If vain the toil 

We ought to blame the culture not the soil. 

Fixed to no spot is happiness sincere ; 

'Tis nowhere to be found or everywhere ; 

'Tis nowhere to be bought, but always free, 

And fled from monarchs, St. John, dwells with thee ! " 

Beautiful, brilliant, but, alas, too flattering eulogy ! No, gen- 
tlemen ! happiness never dwelt in that troubled bosom where 
love of pleasure and ambition reigned supremely to the last. 
The guide, philosopher, and friend, whom our delightful, but too 
mistaken moralist has addressed in these beautiful verses, was 
never happy for a moment, — no, not even in that hour of triumph 
when he gave the law as prime minister of England over half the 
globe, — when his eloquence ruled in parliament, — when the seduc- 
tive charm of his person and manner captivated all hearts in the 
saloon, and when the greatest wits and poets of England were 



15 

proud to share the retirement of his leisure hours, and exhausted 
their finest strains of eloquence and song in his praise. Still less 
was he happy, when the charming Minstrel of the " Essay on 
Man," composed under his instruction, and dedicated to him that 
celebrated poem ; and when fallen from his high estate, attainted 
of treason, barely permitted, after years of exile and poverty, to 
breathe his native air, and till his paternal acres, he destroyed the 
quiet which he might have enjoyed by unavailing efforts to grasp 
the glittering baubles, which in his brilliant youth he had so easily 
won and so early lost ; and by efforts still less pardonable, and 
happily not less unavailing, to disturb the religious faith of his 
countrymen. No, gentlemen ! happiness dwells not in the pro- 
pitious shine of courts, nor yet in the flaming depths of the dia- 
mond mine. It is not to be conquered on the battle-field ; nor is 
it gathered in, as the bard of Twickenham knew too well by his 
own experience, with the richest harvest of Parnassian laurels. 
But the error lies still deeper. Happiness is not, as it is here 
represented, " our being's end and aim." The object of life is 
improvement, progress, preparation for an infinite future. Happi- 
ness, so far as we enjoy it in this mingled state of being, is the 
indirect result of employing the proper means to effect these objects. 
Abandon then, gentlemen, the poet's treacherous guide, who was 
a wretched philosopher, and at best a very doubtful friend. Open 
the Scriptures, and you will there find that rule of practical con- 
duct which he vainly sought to establish in so many beautiful, but 
too unsuccessful moral essays, revealed with unerring certainty in 
a single word : " I give unto you a new commandment, that ye 

LOVE ONE ANOTHER." 

What says the beautiful and original writer whom I just now 
quoted 1 

" There is in man a higher than love'of happiness : he can do 
without happiness, and find blessedness. Was it not to preach 
forth this same Higher, that sages and martyrs, the priest, and the 
poet, in all times have spoken and suffered, bearing testimony 
through life and through death, to the Godlike that is in man ; 
and that in the Godlike only he hath strength and freedom ? On 



16 

the roaring billows of time thou art not ingulfed, but borne aloft 
to the azure of eternity. Love not pleasure ; — love God ? 

"Small is it that thou canst trample under foot the world with 
its injuries as old Greek Zeno taught thee. Thou mayst love the 
world with its injuries and because of its injuries. For this a 
greater than Zeno was needed and he too was sent. Our highest 
Orpheus walked in Judea eighteen hundred years ago. His 
sphere-melody, flowing in wild, native tones, took captive the 
ravshed souls of men ; and being of a truth sphere-melody, still 
flows and sounds, though now with thousand fold accompaniments 
and rich symphonies, through all our hearts and modulates and 
divinely leads them. Sweep away the illusion of time. Glance, 
if thou hast eyes, from the near-moving cause to the far-distant 
mover. Oh ! could I transport thee direct from the beginnings to 
the endings, how were thy eye-sight unsealed and thy heart set 
flaming in a light sea of celestial wonder. Then sawest thou that 
through every star, — through every grass-blade, — and most of alb 
through every living soul the glory of a present God still beams: — 
that this fair universe were it in the meanest portion thereof, is, 
in very deed, the star-domed city of Gjd !" 

Such, gentlemen, is the philosophy of the Scriptures ; — a com- 
plete code of practical and speculative wisdom in two little words : 
a philosophy, original, profound, sublime ; and, at the same time 
clear to the common understanding, satisfactory to every uncor- 
rected heart. You will perceive, that I speak of this philosophy, 
not as a doctrine resting on the authority of Divine revelation, and 
recommended as such to our respect and belief. I look at it mere- 
ly in its own intrinsic character, and point out to you the origin- 
ality, completeness, and evident self-demonstrating truth, which 
distinguish it in both its parts from all I lie other systems which 
have engaged the attention of men. Let us now look for a moment 
at the poetry of the Bible. 

II. Here, gentlemen, we find ourselves at once in the midst of 
a new world of wonders. Poetry, in all its highest departments 
of sublimity, pathos, and beauty, is scattered through the pages 
of the sacred volume with a prolusion, which we look for in vaip 



17 

in any other quarter. Here, too, "the highest heaven of inven- 
tion," to use the language of Shakspeare, opens upon us at the 
very threshold. God said, let there be light, and there was light. 
What power of thought ! What simplicity of language ! The 
greatest critic of antiquity pronounces this passage, as I need not 
remind you, the finest specimen of the sublime which he had any 
where met with. Consider for a moment the variety and vastne-s 
of the images compressed into this l.ttle sentence ; a universe 
weltering in blind and formless chaos; the breath of God moving 
mysteriously over I Fie confused mass; — the word of power issuing 
unspoken from the depths of the Almighty mind, and followed in- 
stantaneously by the presence of the new and brilliant element. 
The least of these ideas would furnish a common poet with pages 
of rhetoric. The record of creation compresses them all into a 
single line. God S'rid* let there be light, and there teas light. How 
tame in comparison with this is even the splendid versification of 
the minstrel of Paradise Lost ! 

" God said, let there be light ! and forthwith light 
Ethereal, first of things, creation pure, 
Sprang from the east, and through the azure vault 
To jouney on its airy course began." 

Through this magnificent entrance we approach the blooming 
abode of our first parents. How 7 charming, and yet how myste- 
rious and mournful, considered merely under a poetical point of 
view, is this ancient eclogue ! Here again how various, and yet how 
■striking are the images and thoughts expressed in a few 7 short para- 
graphs ! A new race of beings, created by the will of God and 
formed after his image ; — their innocence and happiness; — the fresh- 
ness and beauty of the garden that is given them for a residence, 
with its various vegetable products, including the wondrous trees 
of knowledge and of life ; - the celestial beings, not excepting the 
great creating Pow 7 er himself, who disdains not to visit these yet 
unpolluted haunts in the cool of the evening; — the mysterious prin- 
ciple of evil, intruding itself by stealth into this abode of bliss, and 
turning all its beauty into bitterness ;— finally, the sad reverse ; — 
the departure of the exiled pair, and the messenger of God stationed 



18 

with his sword of flame at the gate of Eden to prevent their 
return. What a picture ! The highest reach of the human intel- 
lect in poetry, the Paradise Lost, is, I need not say, the mere fill- 
ing up of this splendid outline ;— a filling up, completed, — we might 
almost believe, from its perfection, — with more than ordinary aid 
from that Divine Spirit, which the sublime minstrel invokes with 
so much earnestness at the outset. 

11 Chiefly thou, great Spirit ! that dost prefer 
Before all places the upright heart and pure, 
Assist me, for thou know'st : Thou from the first 
Wast present, and with mighty wings outstretched, 
Dove-like, satst brooding o'er the vast abyss, 
And mad'st it pregnant: what in me is dark 
Illumine : what is low raise and support : 
That, to the height of this great argument, 
I may assert eternal Providence, 
And justify the ways of God to man." 

The same height of poetical excellence is sustained through 
every part of the Scriptures. The limits of the occasion prevent 
me from going into detail ; nor is it necessary upon a subject so 
familiar to you. Let me barely recall to your remembrance the 
charming narrative of the life of Joseph, which combines with the 
strongest internal evidence of its literal truth all the interest of the 
most pathetic romance ; — the beautiful Pastoral of Ruth ;— the 
sublime Tragedy of Job;— the splendid lyrical effusions of the earlier 
and later bards that are scattered like gems over the rich ground- 
work of the historical and prophetical books; — the treasures of 
thought concentrated in the Proverbs ; — the impassioned tenderness 
that breathes through the love songs of Solomon; — finally, and 
above all, the magnificent productions of the " Monarch Minstrel " 
himself; — a collection of odes, unequalled, unapproached, I may 
say, even in mere literary merit, in any other language ; odes be- 
fore which Pindar and Horace, and the modern lyrical poets of 
highest fame hide their diminished heads ; odes, whose essential 
power and beauty, no dress, however unworthy, can wholly dis- 
guise — which even in the bald imitations of the modern versifiers 



19 

thrill with delight, and exalt with religious rapture every feeling 
heart in the whole population of Christendom. 

It would be impossible, as I remarked just now, to discuss, how- 
ever summarily, on the present occasion, all the various topics sug- 
gested by this brilliant and extended series of literary works. 
In order to fix our ideas, let us, nevertheless, bring before us, for a 
moment, a detached passage from this grand national library, — this 
Encyclopedia, for such it may, in fact, be called, of Hebrew litera- 
ture. Take, for example, the lament of David upon the death of 
Saul and Jonathan. There are few incidents in the course of hu- 
man affairs more affecting than the fall of a young warrior in 
battle. Who among us has not felt his heart melt within him like 
water, at the recollection of the fate of our own Warren, cut off 
prematurely in the bloom of youth and beauty, on the first and 
last of his fields ? Jonathan was the beloved friend of David. For 
Saul, to whom he was indebted, in the first instance, for his poli- 
tical advancement, although he had afterwards much reason to 
complain of the causeless jealousy and even persecution of the way- 
ward king, he had ever cherished the sentiments of respect and 
gratitude, which were natural, under such circumstances, to his 
generous and elevated character. Their fall awakens all his feel- 
ings ; and he pours them out with the pure taste and concentrated 
power that belong to his style, in perhaps the most touching of all 
his poems. 

" The beauty of Israel is slain upon his high places ! How are the mighty 
fallen ! 

" Tell it not in Gath ! Publish it not in the streets of Askelon : lest the 
daughters of the Philistines rejoice, lest the daughters of the uncircumcised 
triumph. 

" Ye mountains of Gilboa ! let there be no dew, neither rain upon you, 
nor fruits for offerings ! for there the shield of the Mighty One was vilely cast 
away ; the shield of Saul as if he had not been anointed with oil. 

" From the blood of the slain, — from the battle of the mighty, the bow of 
Jonathan turned not back, the sword of Saul returned not empty. 

" Saul and Jonathan were loving and pleasant in their lives, and in their 
deaths they were not divided. They were swifter than eagles : they were 
stronger than lions. 



"Ye daughters of Israel! weep over Saul, who clothed you in scarlet, 
who put ornaments of gold upon your apparel ! 

" How are the mighty fallen in the midst of the battle! Oh, Jonathan ! thou 
wast slain on thy high places. 

lt I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan ! very dear hast thou been 
unto me ; thy love for me was wonderful, passing the love of woman. 

" How are the mighty fallen, and the weapons of war perished !" 

III. Such, gentlemen, are the richness and value of the po try 
of the Bible. I had selected one or two other passages, not inferior 
to that which I have recited as specimens, but the limits of 
the occasion compel me to omit I hem. Let us now, in conclusion, 
glance for a moment at some portions of the sacred record which 
belong to the depanment of history. 

Here, gentlemen, we find ourselves carried back once more to the 
opening passage, which 1 have already cited, as embodying the 
essence of the philosophy of the Bible, and exhibiting, at the same 
time, in the judgment of the most celebrated critics, the noblest 
jxample of the sublime in pottry. It is also the record of the most 
important facts in the history of the world. The creation from 
nothing of the unformed elements of the universe ; ~ their separation 
and arrangement ; — the origin of ma n ; — the introduction of the prin- 
ciple of evil; -its gradual prevalence throughout the extended 
population of the earth, and the final submersion of a guilty race 
under the waters of a universal deluge ; — these are the grand physi- 
cal and moral revolutions that occupy the first chapters of the ttible. 
In all this, gentlemen, theie is much that transcends the bounds of 
human reason. he existence of a great, uncreated Mind; —crea- 
tion; the presence of evil in a system formed and governed by 
Omniscient and Almighty Goodness, are facts beyond our compre- 
hension. What then ] Can we comprehend the least of the ordi- 
nary operations of nature that are g >ing on around us ? Is not the 
act of my own will by which I lift my arm as incomprehensible as 
the existence of God ? Is not the articulate voice that bursts from my 
own lips, as great a miracle to me as the word of power that raised 
a universe out of nothing? We are surrounded on all sides by 
mystery. The dew-drop that glitters in the morning sunbeam — 
the animalcule floating in it, whose existence can only be detected 



21 

by a microscope, — are each a miniature world of wonders. Why, 
then, should we be surprised that a veil of mystery, which human 
reason seeks in vain to penetrate, overhangs the cradle of the uni- 
verse ] Let us rather be surprised at the presumption of beings 
who attempt with their little limited intelligence to gasp infinity. 
Suffice it to say, that the results of experience, when they bear 
upon the Scripture record, entirely concur with it. The chrono- 
logy of the different nations of the old world, though in some cases 
apparently at variance with that of the Bible, is found on more 
correct examination to confirm it. The last and most thorough 
researches in geology, conducted by the illustrious Cuvier, verify 
in the minutest particulars the Scripture account of the great revo- 
lutions of the globe. 

From these grand and mysterious events, we pass to others of a 
different character. After unfolding the wonders of creation, the 
Scripture record takes up a less extensive but still most interesting 
theme, the history of the Hebrew nation, the most remarkable that 
has ever appeared upon the earth. We trace it through the succes- 
sive periods of its origin, progress, and maturity to its final destruc- 
tion. The commencement carries us back to a beautiful scene of 
pastoral simplicity. We behold the venerable patriarchs encamp- 
ed in Arab fashion on the green banks of the Jordan. As the set- 
ting sun illuminates the landscape with its ruddy glow, we see 
them seated in the doors of their white tents to contemplate its 
glory. Their sons and daughters, — their kindred, domestics, and 
friends, — are gathered around them. Flocks and herds are return- 
ing from their distant pastures. Every thing indicates repose, 
abundance, and simple happiness. In the background of the pic- 
ture, we discern approaching slowly, a youth of comely appear- 
ance accompanying a fair maiden and their attendants. It is 
the son of the Patriarch. He went forth to meditate at eventide, 
and he has met the promised bride whom the care of his affection- 
ate parents has provided for him. Her love shall console him for 
the loss of his mother. As she reaches the tent, the young men 
and maidens crowd with delight around the expected guest; the 
Patriarch receives her with grave coidiality, and a general joy per- 
vades the whole encampment. 



22 

What a charming spectacle ! These celebrated plains of Pales- 
tine, afterwards the seats of so many rich and powerful cities, the 
scenes of so many wondrous and world-important events, are at 
this time frequented only by a few tribes of wandering shepherds. 
So pure are the lives of the patriarchs, that the messengers of heaven 
condescend at times, as of old in the garden of Eden, to partake 
their hospitality. Even here, however, the principle of evil is not 
wholly absent. The patriarchal families are disturbed with in- 
ternal jealousies, and embroiled with troublesome neighbours. 
They witness with dismay the terrible judgments inflicted on the 
corrupt cities of the lake. In the mean time, however, their wealth 
and numbers increase. In the next generation they are surround- 
ed by troops of retainers,— maintain relations of peace and w 7 ar with 
neighbouring states, and appear already as shepherd princes. 

The scene now changes to the banks of the Nile. A famine 
compels the patriarchal families to take refuge in Egypt, where 
one of their leaders has already been stationed to prepare the way 
for them, and by his extraordinary sagacity and purity of con- 
duct, has raised himself from the condition of a slave to that of 
prime minister. What a contrast in the aspect of every thing 
around them with the country they have left ! Splendid cities, 
temples, palaces, and obelisks of Qver-during granite take the place 
of the rocky hills and green vallies of Palestine. Instead of the 
miniature Jordan passing with its slender tide from one lake to 
another, the magnificent Nile pours from its undiscovered mountain 
sources its swelling flcod through a channel of a thousand miles 
to the ocean. This celebrated stream, which now works its way 
through masses of ruins, its waters undisturbed by any navigation, 
except the skiff of the occasional traveller, was then the thorough- 
fare of business for a large portion of the civilized world. These 
massive ruins, which even in their forlorn abandonment overwhelm 
the observer with unmingled wonder, were then, in their complete 
state, the brilliant abodes of wealth and lixury, swarming with 
inhabitants, rich in all the treasures of art and science, which were 
carried at that time to nearly as high a degree of perfection as they 
are with us. Tl.ebes, now a granite quarry of rocfless walls and 
broken columns, half buried in sand, was then a mighty metropo- 



23 

lis, sending forth, as described by Homer some centuries after- 
wards, a hundred war-chariots from each of her hundred gates. 
As the solitary wanderer from Europe now surveys these un- 
equalled monuments,— the pyramids, — the obelisks with their mys- 
terious hieroglyphical inscriptions,— the temples and colonnades 
measured not by the foot or the yard, but by the league and 
square mile,- he is lost in amazement, and is half tempted to attri- 
bute them to some giant race of Titans or Cyclops, far transcend- 
ing in dimensions and strength the puny beings that now people 
the globe. 

Such was the state of Egypt at the time when the patriarchal 
families took refuge there. It would be instructive and interest- 
ing to trace their history in detail through its subsequent periods, 
but the limits of the occasion render it impossible, and the theme 
is already familiar to you. Its outline is too correctly given in the 
brief sketch by a recent poet of the general history of nations : 

" There is a moral in all human things, 
'Tis but the sad lehearsal of the past; 
First freedom and then glory ; when these fail, 
Vice, — wealth, — corruption, — barbarism at last." 

Adventurous enterprizing, religious in their earlierdays, — wild and 
warlike under Joshua, Saul, and David —luxurious under Solomon, 
the Hebrews soon sink into corruption, and are crushed and carried 
away captive by the neighbouring states. This catastrophe closes 
the career of the nation, which can hardly be said to have survived in 
the miserable remnant who returned from Assyria, and maintained 
for several centuries a lingering struggle for a wretched provincial 
existence, which was finally extinguished in blood by the over- 
whelming power of Rome. The later pages of the sacred record are 
occupied with the waitings of the exiles over their unhappy destiny? 
— their lamentations for their lost country, — their stern denuncia- 
tions of their oppressors, and their glowing prophecies of a future 
day of greatness and glory, which is to arise in some mysterious 
way on their posterity ; —prophecies, which, I need not say, the pro- 
gress of the Christian religion has converted into history. 

In what sweet and melting strains the ancient Hebrew lyre 
echoes the lament of these heart-broken patriots ! 



24 

"By the rirers of Babylon we sat down and wept ; yea, we wept as we 
remembered Zion." 

The skillful, though wayward hand of Byron has called forth 
from the same instrument a tone of soul-subduing pathos in his 
Hebrew melodies. 

♦ " The wild gazelle on Judah's hills 
Exulting yet may bound, 
And drink from all the thousand rills 

That gush on holy ground. 
Her airy step and glorious eye 
May pass in tauntless transport by. 

A step as fleet, an eye more bright, 

Has Judah witnessed there, 
And o'er her scenes of lost delight 

Inhabitants more fair. 
The cedars wave on Lebanon, 
But Judah's lovelier maids are gone. 

More blest each palm that shades her plains 

Than Judah's scattered race, 
For taking root it there remains 

In solitary grace. 
It may not quit its place of birth, 
It will not thrive in other earth. 

But we must wander witheringly 

In other climes to die ; 
And where our fathers' ashes be, 

Our own may never lie. 
The temple has not left a stone, 
And mockery sits on Salem's throne." 

How grand aud lofty is the strain in which the bard of Twick- 
enham — sustained for once by an inspiration nobler than his own, — 
bursts forth, as it were, in spite of himself, into a rapture of subli- 
mity, in depicting after the Hebrew poets the glories of the pro- 
mised Messiah ! 

" Rise! crowned with light ! imperial Salem, rise ! 
Exalt thy towering head, and lift thine eyes \ 
See a long race thy hallowed courts adorn ; 
Sto future tons and daughters yet unborn, 



25 

In crowding ranks on every side arise, 
Demanding life, — impatient for the skies. 
See barbarous nations at thy gates attend, 
Walk in thy light, and in thy temples bend. 

See thy bright altars throng'd with prostrate kings, 
And heaped with odors of Sabean springs ; 
For thee Idume's spicy forests blow, 
And seeds of gold on Ophir's mountains glow. 
See heaven its sparkling portals wide display, 
And burst upon thee as a flood of day. 

No more the rising sun shall gild the mom, 
Nor evening Cynthia fill her silver horn j 
But lost, dissolved in thy superior rays 
One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze 
O'erflowthy courts : the Light himself shall shine 
Revealed, and God's eternal day be thine. 

The seas shall waste — the skies in smoke decay, 
Rocks iall to dust, and mountains melt away. 
But fixed thy word — thy saving power lemains ! 
Thy realm for ever lasts ! thy own Messiah reigns !" 

No common verses these, gentlemen ! and yet there are persons 
who tell us that Pope was not a poet. Had he always written 
thus, I think there could have been but little question about it. 
Religion, gentlemen, after all, seems to awaken the genius of poetry, 
quite as effectually, as well as to much better purpose, than the praise 
of war or wine. Her snow-white robe and sparkling diadem, are,me- 
thinks a not less attractive vesture for the muse than the rosychaplets 
of the banqueting room, or the transparent tissues of the half-uncov- 
ered Venus. It would give me pleasure, gentlemen, to dwell more at 
length on these seductive topics, but the limits of the occasion com- 
pel me to hurry to a close. Let us, however, glance for a moment 
at some of the characters that figure most prominently in the 
strange eventful history to which I have now so briefly adverted. 

What an array, in fact, of interesting personages crowd the pa- 
ges of this varied narrative ! Remark, I pray you, the grave 
majesty of Abraham;— the unsullied purity and high political talent 
of Joseph ; — Moses, the lawgiver, poet, and father of his people ; — 
tha graceful piety of the infant Samuel gradually maturing into 



26 

the dignity of the priestly ruler ;— the wild and frenzied heroism of 
Saul ; — the various gifts and graces of the unrivalled Monarch Min- 
strel, and the splendid pageant of his brilliant son and successor I 
How distinctly all these and a hundred other characters stand out 
from the canvass, demonstrating by the strongest internal evidence 
to every experienced eye, that they are not fancy pieces, but por- 
traits from the life ! What charming apparitions of female grace 
and heroism beam forth from the midst of this throng of warriors, 
priests, and poets ! The beauty of Sarah, that subdued all hearts 
even at the brilliant court of Egypt ; — the touching self-devotion of 
the daughter of Jepthah ;— the poetical enthusiasm of Miriam ; — 
the masculine valor of Deborah and Judith ; — finally, the far- 
famed Egyptian bride, whose praise will live forever, embalmed in 
the song of songs, which is Solomon's ! 

Let us select, at the risk of being tedious, from this long list of 
characters, one or two of the more conspicuous, and dwell upon 
them a little more particularly. Glance, for a moment, gentlemen, 
at the great lawgiver; the first, humanly viewed, of what Bacon 
declares to be the first class of great men, the founders of nations. 
Of humble origin, he is thrown by chance into the midst of the 
most powerful, learned, and luxurious court of his time. He is the 
favorite of the sovereign's daughter. Wealth and beauty waste 
their blandishments upon him. What w 7 ill he become ? Probably an 
effeminate courtier, — at best a book-learned priest, — a bold ambitious 
warrior ;— a sagacious politician ; — the Talleyrand of the Nile. Ah, 
no ! Beneath that ample forehead the eye of genius burns un- 
dimmed by the corrupting influence of a courtly atmosphere, but 
with no impure or selfish flame. In the palaces of their oppressors, 
his heart beats with patriotic sympathy for the wrongs of his people. 
In the ardor of his zeal, he is driven to an act of violence which 
withdraws him from the circle of the court, and sends him forth for 
a while to lead the life of his shepherd ancestors in the plains of 
Midian. But the vision of his injured countrymen pursues him to 
his retreat, and he forms the magnificent project of redeeming them 
from bondage, and establishing them as an independent nation in 
their ancient territory of Palestine. Behold him reappearing, no 



longer the favorite of the sovereign's daughter, but an exile, stained 
with blood, unpiotected, unprovided with human means, at the 
splendid court of the Pharaohs, lo demand the liberation of his 
countrymen ! What will be hisfortune ? In all human probability, — 
by the aid of only human means, — disgraceful failure in his project; 
— for himself, untimely destruction. Idle terrors ! He comes aut hor- 
ized from above. What grand and terrible displays of power attest 
his mission ! At the voice of the obscure exile, the great river of 
Egypt runs blood: darkness shrouds her territory: death enters 
every dwelling from the cottage of the laborer to the splendid pa- 
laces of Thebes and Memphis, until the last act of retributive jus- 
tice swallows up in the floods of the Red Sea, the hosts of the still 
unsubdued and false-hearted oppressor. Emancipation is effected. 
The harder task remains of organizing this scattered tribe of libe- 
rated slaves into a body politic. Will the steady patriot, — the daunt- 
less champion, — the successful leader of the people understand the 
mysteries of political science 1 Will he be able to arrange, with all 
the necessary checks and balances, the complicated machinery of 
a new constitution? Fear not for him, man of many books ! He 
possesses a source of information more certain than any of your 
theories, richer than all the pigeon-holes of all the constitution- 
makers. He is inspired by the fear and love of God which are the 
end as well as the beginning of wisdom. He builds his political 
structure on the Rock of Ages: the gates of Hell cannot and 
will not prevail against it. Then was revealed to the world, for the 
first time, the beautiful spectacle of a political constitution founded 
in truth, justice, and equal rights. It was revealed for the perpetual 
instruction of all succeeding generations. Amid the changing 
forms of national existence, it survives, and will survive for ever, 
the substantial basis of the legislation of Christendom. The law- 
giver has accomplished his mission : his work is done. It remains 
for younger and bolder spirits to remove the last obstacles, and open 
the way with the sword to the field where this great political expe- 
riment must be tried. But does no alloy of ambition mingle with 
the lofty purposes of the venerable Founder ? Will he willingly re- 
sign to others in his old age the control of the nation which he has 



28 

been the instrument of creating ? Behold him on the top of Mount 
Pisgah casting a single glance of hope and joy at the promised 
abode of his people, and then cheerfully investing with the robe of 
authority his chosen successor. What remains to crown his already 
unrivalled name? The laurel of the poet adorns the thoughtful 
brow of the veteran statesman. The voice that marshalled the 
people to freedom, — that proclaimed the constitution and the laws, 
— through life celebrates their achievements in fervid strains of 
poetry, and breathes its last sigh in a song of praise and blessing on 
the tribes. 

Such, gentlemen, was the great Hebrew lawgiver : in a merely 
secular view, perhaps the highest name in human history. Less 
imposing, but still more engaging and attractive, is the far famed 
"monarch minstrel." He, too, combines the various glories of 
statesman, warrior, and poet. To him belongs the merit of raising 
the tribes from the precarious condition of a number of scattered 
settlements, intermingled with still unsubdued, and, not unfre- 
quently, victorious enemies, into one united, powerful, prosperous 
state. Under him the vision of the great Founder is for the first 
time fully realized, and the chosen people assume an independent 
rank among the nations of the earth. In his military character 
the highest warlike talents,— dauntless courng^, pushed to the verge 
of rash less,— unerring judgment,— prompt decision,— indefatigable 
activity, — are accompanied by tenderness for the fallen foe,— con- 
tempt for self-indulgence,— devotion to the sex, — respect for religion, 
—in short, all the fairest graces of the most improved states of civili- 
zation. Behold him at the cave of Adullam, dashing from his parched 
lips the untasted water from the well of Beth-lehem that had been 
too dearly purchased by the jeopardy of precious blood ! Behold him 
in the wilderness of En-gedi, sparing the life of his deadly foe who 
at the same moment is pursuing him with the rage of insanity ! 
In all his relations to Saul, what considerate kindness, — what noble 
forbearance under the most revolting injuries ! We seem to see the 
principle of good encountering that of evil in personal conflict, and 
overcoming it by the gentle weapons of kindness and charity. In 
his intercourse with Jonathan, what romantic friendship, — what 
sincere devotion ! We feel, as we read it, that there is no empty 



29 

show in the charming lament which I just now quoted over the 
fallen Beauty of Israel. No character in therecords of Christian 
chivalry at its brightest periods, — not the fearless and faultless Bay- 
ard,— not the perfect Alfred himself, exemplifies so completely what 
that famous institution was or should have been. But with all his 
merit as a warrior and statesman, the gift by which he rises highest 
in comparison with the great of other ages and nations, is undoubt- 
edly that of Poetry. Philosophy and song have rarely taken up 
their abode in palaces, and when they have done so they have 
generally put on a loose and gallant dress accommodated to the 
scene around them. When the chivalry of Europe, in the middle 
ages, cultivated literature, it dwindled very soon into a gay science, 
to use the language of the time, comprehending little but romances 
and light love songs. Even in the hands of Solomon, the lyre of 
his lofty father begins already to send forth a softened and some- 
what effeminate strain. In the works of David, for the first and 
only time in the history of the world, the sublime idea of Religion, 
that concentrated essence of all truth, — is embodied in the highest 
strains of poetry. Compare these divine odes with the best lyric 
poetry of any other nation. Compare them, — I will not say with 
Anacreon, with Sappho, with the lighter portions of Horace, or with 
Moore, poets professedly of a free and almost licentious cast,— but 
compare them with all that ancient or modern lyric bards have furnish- 
ed most excellent in sublimity, pathos, and moral beauty : compare 
them with Pindar, — with Horace in his highest flights, — with the 
French Rousseau, — the German Klopstock, Schiller, Burger, — the 
English Milton, Dryden, and Gray.--Of the whole list, Pindar alone 
sustains the comparison with some degree of success, — so far as the 
mere form of composition is concerned,— by the power, splendor, and 
fullness of his style. " Pindar, 1 ' says his Latin imitator, " like a 
river descending from a mountain, and swelled by copious rains 
above its banks, pours forth the vast, deep, boiling torrent of his 
song." 

Pindamm quisquis studet semulari, 
Jule ! ceratis ope daedalea 
Nititur pennis, vitreo daturus 
Nomina ponto. 



30 

Monte decurrens, velut amnis, imbres 
Quem super notas aluere ripas, 
Fervet immensusque ruit profundo 
Pindarus ore. 

Splendid, and as respects the mere form of composition, not un- 
merited eulogy ! But how poor and mean are his subjects, when 
compared with those of David ! Of Pindar, more truly, perhaps, 
than of any other writer, we may say, that the workmanship ex- 
celled the stuff. JWateriem superabat opus. What a waste of the 
richest gifts of mind to commemorate the triumphs of the race- 
ground and the wrestling match, — to adorn the interminable fables 
of a childish and corrupt mythology ! In the matchless odes of 
David, on the other hand, as I just now remarked, the finest poetry 
is employed to embody the most profound wisdom. His only sub- 
ject is Religion,— sublime, beautiful, pure, and true,— as she reveals 
herself to the highest contemplations of the noblest minds. But is 
not this devotional language a mere lip-service 1 a form of sound 
words employed by the king to set a good example to his court 1 
Ah, no ! Religion is his pride, his delight, his passion. There is 
no mistake about his meaning. His poetry is a boiling flood, like 
that of Pindar, though heated with a far different fire. Every verse 
is alive,— breathing, burning, throbbing with unaffected sentiment. 
Whence, then, comes this sudden burst of light and glory from the 
centre of the deepest intellectual and moral darkness? How hap- 
pens it that the ruler of a little semi-barbarous eastern state has 
reached in his odes a height of sublimity, pathos, moral and reli- 
gious truth, which Pindar never dreamed of, and Milton vainly 
sought to imitate 1 Answer, infidelity ! Answer, scepticism ! When 
you have done your best in vain, Faith supplies the solution with 
a word. Ah, splendid bard ! could but a ray of your divine inspi- 
ration have fallen upon that wayward heart which was destined 
three thousand years afterwards to celebrate with not unequal 
powers &f verse your unfading glory ! 

The harp the monarch minstrel swept, 

The king of men, the loved of Heaven, 
Which nusic hallowed as she wept 

O'er tones her heart of hearts had given, — 
Redouble*} ,be her tears : its chords are riven. 



ol 

It softened men of iron mould ; 

It gave them virtues not their own. 
No ear so dull, — no heart so cold, 
That felt not, — fired not at its tone, 
Till David's lyre grew mightier than his throne. 

It told the triumphs of our king, 

It wafted glory to our God, 
It made the gladdened vallies ring, 
The cedars bow, — the mountains nod, 
Its sound aspired to Heaven, and there abode. 

When the Greek artist undertook to represent on canvass the tra- 
gic scene of the sacrifice of Iphigenia, he employed every secret of 
his talent in heightening the expression of grief upon the faces of 
the assistants, but when he came to that of Agamemnon he drew 
a veil over it, for he felt that the depth of a father's despair under 
such circumstances, was beyond the reach of the pencil. There is 
one other character, gentlemen, in Scripture, which should now 
be presented to you as a summary of all that I have said, but I dare 
not make the attempt. What language can delineate, or pretend 
to give an idea of perfection? What early maturity ! While yet a 
child, he astonishes the wisest by his learning. What docility to 
his parents ! What affection for his friends ! What indulgence to the 
fallen ! What sympathy with female weakness, and infant inno- 
cence ! What faultless purity of life ! With all this gentleness, what 
unshrinking severity for vice ! With all this innocence, what uner- 
ring sagacity ! In this lowly condition what power of thought, 
what elevation of sentiment, what grace and charm of language ! 
" Never man spake as he spake." In his doctrine, what before un- 
heard of, unthought of, wisdom ; the wisdom not of books, but of 
the heart ! " I give unto you a new commandment, that ye love 
one another." In conduct, what unaffected self-sacrifice ! "Fa- 
ther, forgive them ! they know not what they do." Whence then 
comes this moral phenomenon, still more strange, and on ordinary- 
principles, inexplicable than the one just alluded to ? If the history 
Y>e true, how happens it that the most unpropitious circumstances 
have brought out this grand result ? If false, how is it that a few 
illiterate persons have invented a character, which to invent would S 



32 

be, m one form, to realize ? Answer once more, infidelity ! Answer 
once more, scepticism ! Gentlemen, infidelity, scepticism, have 
answered. The force of truth, long* since, tore from the lips of one 
of their ablest champions the reluctant confession; Hear it in the 
words of Rousseau : 

" Socrates lived and died like a philosopher : Jesus Christ lived and 
died like a God /" 



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